


Socks

by PlatonicRabbit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Because I suck, Clothes Shopping, Fluff, Gabriel is bad at human things, Gen, M/M, and socks, because feelings are for the weak, boys not talking about feelings, but it's okay because he has a system, can't forget the socks, late birthday present for itch, more than 50 days late
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 11:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6050338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatonicRabbit/pseuds/PlatonicRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam wants Gabriel to move in, properly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Socks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Itch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itch/gifts).



> This is so late it's embarrassing but I thought I'd post it anyway now that it's finally beaten into something approximating a shape
> 
> The summary makes this sound so much more structured than it is. This is nothing but 1500 words of my rambling.

Most people, when asked to move in with their partner, do something to mark the occasion.

Even something minor, like moving their stuff in. The little things that indicate to the world the place is lived in, a home for them.

 

Gabriel, always the exception, does nothing, other than smile and accept Sam's invitation. There's no sign of change in the bunker over the next week. Even Castiel had done more, when Dean asked him to stay. Even if it was as simple as hanging his trench coat on the door of the bedroom he'd claimed, allowing Sam to set up a television and a Netflix account for him, and taking his shoes off when he came inside.  
It still felt like Castiel had made changes, made a space for himself in the bunker, in their lives.

Like he was planning to stay.

 

Gabriel, on the other hand, changes nothing. He comes "home" to visit Sam, and, less often, Dean and Castiel, and spends the rest of his time out in the world, playing tricks, dodging his family, watching the sunset- Sam doesn't even know where he is most of the time.

It's okay that Gabriel hasn't claimed a room for himself, Sam didn't want him to. Sam wanted his angel to make space for himself in Sam's room.  
He doesn't even have a drawer for clothes, instead keeping them in a tiny pocket reality he stores in his coat pocket. The only real change Gabriel had brought to bunker life was Arthur, and the dog had been moved in long before Gabriel had.

Sam tries to ignore the feeling of transience, tried to convince himself Gabriel hadn't "moved in" because he didn't have anything much to move. That the bunker was really a home to the Archangel. That Sam himself was more than a rest stop.  
It doesn't really go away.

 

Gabriel doesn’t mojo fix his clothes.  
He’ll clean them, going days at a time without needing to change, and he'll fix any damage that comes from the job, either Sam's or his own, wiping away bloodstains and bullet holes and claw gashes and the remains of a gigantic Stay Puft Marshmallow Man (Sam never asked what the target had done to deserve that one, and Gabriel never said) like they were never there. But regular wear and tear, Gabriel ignores.

It takes Sam a few months to notice, but the archangel's shirts and pants do wear out, if not at the same rate as everyone else’s, and when he snags the hem of his last acceptable shirt on a chair in the library and rips it, Gabriel decides it’s time to go shopping.  
The declaration confuses Sam, because he knows Gabriel can magically make his clothes stop becoming so worn and threadbare over time. Castiel has been doing exactly that since they met him. God knows that suit would be in tatters by now, otherwise.

And it’s not like Gabriel is looking for an excuse to go shopping. The archangel despises shopping and spends each trip either bitching at Sam or raiding the candy store after Sam gets annoyed and leaves him there.

The store proprietor, a Mr Bucket, is always happy to see Gabriel, his biggest spending customer.

 

Today, though, Sam has to drag Gabriel away from the brightly coloured store and towards the larger department store at the end of the aisle.

Because whether or not Gabriel could solve the problem himself, Sam won’t let him walk around wearing rags when he can do something about it. Sam’s a good boyfriend like that.

Normally the Winchesters buy their clothes from thrift stores. Once upon a time, when the boys had still been living with John, Dean had stolen their clothes from laundromats, but those days had ended when Sam grew two sizes larger than was reasonable. Sam doesn’t think Gabriel will accept second hand items, unless they’re Sam’s, which he appropriates regularly. And the angel, while he does own more than one outfit, still doesn’t use as many clothes as a human. Sam figures he can buy Gabriel two pairs of pants and three shirts and keep him going for a year or so.

It’s not even much of an expense now that they have the bunker to live in and get more money from credit card fraud than hustling; not to mention Gabriel himself, who Sam has caught, more than once, sneaking mojoed money in the Winchester's wallets.

 

When Sam finally gets Gabriel through the doors, the archangel, shockingly, brightens up.  
Never a good sign.

‘Gabriel?’ Sam asks tentatively after the angel happily picks out an armful of clothes and makes his way to the fitting room.

‘Yes, Samaroon?’ he hums, examining a Deadpool t-shirt. Sam isn’t surprised Gabriel likes it, but it was clearly designed for a teenager. On Gabriel’s middle-aged vessel it would look out of place.

‘Not that one,’ Sam says, taking the shirt out of Gabriel’s hands and putting it back on the rack. Gabriel pouts.

Sam rolls his eyes at him. ‘I thought you hated shopping?’ he asks, remembering what he’d been preparing to ask.

Gabriel snorts in a manner very unbecoming of an archangel. ‘I hate grocery shopping, Samberry,’ he replies, running the back of his hand over a shirt. Finding the material coarse and unsatisfactory, Gabriel removes his hand and moves on. Two shirts on the next rack meet his standards.

Sam eyes the sizeable pile Gabriel is already carrying. Gabriel notices, of course; he notices everything unless he’s being deliberately obtuse.

‘Oh don’t worry, you’re not paying,’ he says airily, waving his free hand at Sam.

Sam is getting more and more confused about why this trip is even necessary.  
He’s about to ask when Gabriel finds a sock display. Or rather, the emperor of all sock displays.  
The socks are arranged in a conical shape that’s taller than Sam. Gabriel is circling it like a hawk and pulling socks out of the display seemingly at random. When he has so many socks Sam suspects he's using Grace to hold them all, Gabriel spins around and carries his gigantic armful of clothes up to the counter.

On the drive back to the bunker Sam is still trying to figure out this turn of events.  
Gabriel is watching him, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. He won’t explain until Sam gives in and asks. It’s a game they play.  
Sam sighs in defeat.

 

‘You only had about three shirts when you moved in. And just the one jacket and one pair of jeans. Why do you suddenly need a whole wardrobe? And why not fix your old ones?’

 

Gabriel laughs at him. ‘Angels don't have much use for clothes. If I use Grace to keep them in shape like Cas does, I find people staring at me after thirty years or so,’ he explains. ‘Once, back when I’d only been in my Loki gig for a couple of hundred years, I didn’t change clothes for a whole century. I didn’t smell, or anything but even the other Pagans thought it was weird.’

 

Sam frowns. ‘So you just wear stuff until it’s in rags, then go and buy more?’ he clarifies.

 

‘Yup! Usually I buy enough to last a decade or so. Last time I went shopping was just after I died in the hotel. These haven’t lasted as long while I’ve been on the run.’ Gabriel says, picking at the threadbare shirt he’d worn to the shops.

 

Sam resolves to make him bin his outfit and put on some of the new clothes as soon as they’re out of the car.  
Gabriel does so, happily. All the new clothes go in the spare compartment at the bottom of Sam’s chest of drawers. The socks he takes out and examines, and proceeds to mix and match until he has a dozen pairs of completely clashing socks.  
Except for one pair, which he leaves together because they’re “flawless”.

 

They’re an offence to Sam’s eyes, really, but unfortunately they very quickly become Gabriel’s favourites. They’re patterned with tiger stripes in hot pink and purple and covered in glitter.  
Sam suspects part of why Gabriel likes them is because Dean can’t seem to get over how ridiculous they are.

Whatever the reason, the Archangel takes to wearing them around the bunker, without his boots. The clothes he'd bought never make it into Gabriel's pocket dimension, but stay in their drawer beside the bed.

A week later a multihued rubber duck finds it's way into the bunker bathroom.

Soon after that Gabriel starts storing snacks in the fridge instead of conjuring them on the spot.

A red couch shows up from God-knows-where and finds a home in a corner of the library Sam is not at all sure always existed, next to a lamp and a bar fridge that Dean takes to immediately. Sam ignores the beer being stored in his library, as long as Dean ignores the spell ingredients stored next to his beer.

Even months later, seeing a shirt sleeve sticking out of the drawer, a sock on the floor, makes Sam smile. It feels like Gabriel is finally committing, finally moving in properly, rather than popping in and out like a guest.

It feels like they’ve finally made a home.

**Author's Note:**

> The socks were supposed to be important but they just didn't wanna be
> 
> Happy birthday Itch
> 
> ... For two months ago
> 
> Also, yes, there was a Roald Dahl reference in there.


End file.
